Fairy Tale
by oddstick
Summary: Once upon a time, the Fair Haired King was lost.  He has finally returned Home.


**Title**: Fairy Tale

**Author**: **odd_stick**

**Disclaimer**: All recognizable characters and such belong to Konami.

**Rating**: MATURE

**Pairing**: ValtielxJames

**Summary**: Request fic for dreamerchaos; prompt – Valtiel/James; smut smut pron goodness… '_tear apart the knots and wooden bars from the Mother Tree…travel down, down until you reach the throne of the fair haired ivory king_.'

**A/N**: Because it might upset those unfamiliar with the series, I'd like to make it clear that the God (http : / / silenthill . wikia . com / wiki / God) mentioned in this story is NOT the same as the God of the Abrahamic religions.

Also, the imagery here was very heavily inspired and influenced by the films, Sleepy Hollow and Pan's Labyrinth. :3

* * *

James didn't know how much deeper he could go and still hope to find a way back to the surface. Under the Historical Society, he had already found a secret prison and places that were too dark and terrible to mention full of horrible nightmares and creatures that cried in the darkness, but while he wondered through the labyrinth, he happened upon a strange, yet serene room. Thankfully free of monsters, the single inhabitant of the room was the skeleton of an enormous tree.

"What the hell? How did a tree manage to get this big underground? Let alone grow at all…" James thought aloud as he circumvented the bone white trunk of the ancient tree. The thing looked like it was carved out of marble but when he touched it, a strange, almost _living_ warmth emanated from it. The texture of the bark on the trunk was realistic enough, but James decided that analyzing the tree's existence and composition out of everything else he'd been through lately could wait.

Still making his way around the enormous trunk, he just barely managed to catch himself when the toe of his boot caught a raised plaque at the base of the tree. After wiping a film of dust and grime from the dull surface, he could just barely make out the words etched into the bronze. "God adores her Children, but her Son, the King, is most Beloved. This Tree is but one of her Gifts to Him, and leads to His Sanctuary. Only those that are Worthy may enter."

James inscribed the message in his notebook just in case, but desperately hoped that he would never run into this God or her King. He saw nothing else of interest in the room and moved to leave when his flashlight suddenly hit upon something reflective deep in the intertwined roots of the massive tree. He almost ignored it, but that had proven poor judgment in the past.

Even getting down on his knees didn't offer a better view of whatever the object was. Gathering his courage, he tentatively penetrated the interweaving root system with his right hand. The fit was tight and surprisingly deep. "_This is stupid_," he thought even as his arm was buried past the elbow in the ivory tendrils. Sighing, he attempted to retract his arm only to meet resistance.

The roots tightened and _pulsed_ around his arm. James eyes widened and his breath quickened as he braced his other hand against the roots to stabilize him as he pulled. "Nonononono," escaped his lips in a whispered litany of denial. The throb of the pressure around his arm tightened and loosened as if the thing controlling the roots lived and breathed. Clawing at the roots with his free hand, James barely had time to notice that the roots holding him started to feel like hands grasping his captured hand and wrist. He let loose a startled yelp as the hands gripped tight and pulled.

Instead of bashing his shoulder or head into the roots, the tree's base seemed to cave in. The roots acted like snakes as they writhed around him, caressing his limbs, face and torso as he was pulled deeper into their embrace. His body and his screams were quickly swallowed by the tree and no trace of him was left in the quiet room save for the footprints left in the dust.

* * *

He woke up to someone touching him, fingers delicately tracing his features before running through his hair and gently brushing his bangs back from his forehead. "Mary?" he questioned, his mind in the past. The hand stopped its ministrations and was suddenly gone. The cessation of the comforting gesture broke James from his waking dreams and he opened his eyes.

The ceiling was lost to the darkness and when he turned his head, he saw that the walls were as well. He saw no sign of his mysterious guardian and pushed it off as a by-product of his confused and fear filled mind. He slowly climbed to his feet, wincing when he found that his right wrist could not support him. In the glow of his flashlight, he saw that there were already bruises forming around his wrist and forearm. Horror filled him when he realized that the marks were in the shape of fingers.

He needed to wrap his wrist to stabilize it, but being out in the open was not his first choice of places to take a break. Looking around showed that the room was shrouded in darkness, save a dim glow to his right. With no other choices, James made his way towards the light. Columns that rose up past his flashlight's range started to appear in neat rows like towering ghosts. When he finally emerged from the stone forest, he found the source of light to be emanating from four large pyres in raised bowls of dark metal. The pedestals were situated at the corners of a large raised dais upon which sat a single red throne.

It wasn't the strangest thing James had seen while in Silent Hill, but the throne itself had an eerie presence. The closer he got to it, the more his body reacted. The fine hairs on the nape of his neck and his arms stood on end while his throat tightened and tears prickled at the back of his eyes. Unfortunately, there wasn't anywhere else to go.

James took a seat on the edge of the raised dais, as far as he could get from the red throne while still utilizing the fire's light. He pulled out his last first aid kit and rummaged through it until he found the gauze and disinfectant. As he tended his battered wrist, he failed to notice his watcher.

God's servants were Greater and more powerful than the simple imps and demons that traversed Her Sacred Land. This was one of the reasons that the radio didn't hiss a warning to James as the creature drew closer. Just like on the roof that he had been pushed off of, he had no way of knowing that he was being stalked until a red gloved hand shot over his shoulder and grabbed his injured wrist. With a strangled cry of pain and terror, James was forced to bend backwards to follow his hand as it was pulled over his shoulder and behind him.

Fear suffocated him when he saw what had taken hold of him. The creature, like so many others in this Hellish town, had no face. Instead, a mask of flesh was stretched tight across its features though James could still make out vague shapes and angles indicating the locations of eye sockets, cheekbones, mouth, and nose.

James was flat on his back, head tilted back to see the creature that still held his injured wrist tightly in its, no, _his_ grasp. He flailed about, rolling onto his stomach and hauled his weight back from the demon, trying to wrench his arm free. The demon was crouched in what had to be an uncomfortable position, one leg curled under him while the other was stretched out behind as if he had been crawling towards James before attacking. Pulling with all his might was ineffectual, the creature not even rocking in its unsteady stance.

The creature pulled James' hand closer to his face. The frightened man was attempting to drag himself back, but the monster's strength was incredible. Blood drained from his face and a cold sweat broke out as the beast seemed to scent James' hand before rubbing it against his leathery cheek.

"P-please let me go," the human begged.

The creature raised its head minutely, but kept the captured hand firmly against his face. "**NO JAMES**." The voice overwhelmed James' mind. No words were spoken aloud, but the mere presence and power behind the creature's voice made him feel as if his ear drums would burst. "**YOU HAVE FINALLY RETURNED AFTER ALL THIS TIME. WHY WOULD WE LET YOU GO AFTER WE HAVE WAITED SO LONG AND PATIENTLY FOR YOU TO COME BACK TO US?**"

Too many questions bubbled forth, but he only managed to get one past his trembling lips. "Us?"

"**THE MESSENGER…AND THE ENFORCER**," replied another voice. James hadn't even heard the other approach, but he knew who it was just by the shiver that ran up his spine. Whipping his head around, James watched as Pyramid Head's form eased into the light, shadows clinging to him like a lover's hands.

"Oh God," slipped past James' slack lips as his entire body renewed it's trembling.

The demon that held his hand suddenly pulled, jerking the frightened man forward so that their faces nearly touched. He could almost see the creature's manic grin behind the fleshy mask. "**SHE IS OVERJOYED AT YOUR RETURN JAMES**."

Turning his head to the side to widen the distance between them, James looked at the creature out of the corner of his eye. "You keep mentioning my 'return'. I've only been to Silent Hill once before…but I don't think that's what you're referring to."

A whine escaped James' throat as the creature nuzzled at his exposed neck. Averting his eyes from his attacker, James only found himself the subject of another's additional attention. Pyramid Head's helm and supposed eyes were directed at the both of them as he leaned against his spear casually. The masked demon crooned into his mind, "**THAT WAS ONLY THE FIRST TIME THAT YOU HAD SET FOOT ON HER SACRED LAND IN **_**THIS**_** LIFETIME. WE WERE SO HAPPY THAT YOU HAD FOUND YOUR WAY BACK…BUT YOU WERE WITH THAT HARLOT AND COULD NOT HEAR OUR CALLS**."

James felt what could only be a tongue swipe at his neck. The action made him shiver in revulsion and confusion. The beast's mask covered any semblance of a mouth that it may have had…didn't it? The creature's words finally wriggled their way past James' molestation. "_Harlot_? Mary is my _wife_!"

While still holding James' injured and partially wrapped wrist prisoner, the creature's other arm coiled around the man's waist. The blond struggled to pull himself away from the touch, but the deceptively gentle hands were like bands of iron that held him fast. "_**WAS**_** YOUR WIFE, JAMES**," Pyramid Head replied. "**NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU DENY IT, SHE IS DEAD**." The Executioner shifted his weight, leaning his helm against the spear's shaft. "**THE HARLOT WAS AN OBSTACLE AND HAD TO BE REMOVED. YOU ONLY PROVED YOUR WORTH FURTHER WHEN YOU PASSED YOUR OWN JUDGEMENT ON HER**."

"W-what are you talking about? She got sick and she died in the hospital. There was nothing that anyone could do!"

This time it was the demon at his throat that answered. "**YOU WOULD NOT LISTEN TO OUR HAILS AND CALLS. MEASURES WERE TAKEN TO REMOVE YOUR MARY. WE WERE ALL PLEASANTLY SURPRISED WHEN YOU TOOK IT UPON YOURSELF TO FINISH WHAT YOUR MOTHER HAD STARTED, LIKE ANY GOOD SON SHOULD**."

James chest heaved with panicked breaths. "Nothing you say makes sense. S-she just got sick and died in her sleep. That's all."

Pyramid Head straightened from his relaxed stance. As he stalked closer he said, "**DIED IN HER SLEEP? DO NOT LIE TO YOURSELF OR US. GOD MAY HAVE AWAKENED THE DORMANT SICKNESS, BUT YOU WERE THE ONE THAT ENDED THE WOMAN'S SUFFERING. YOU DECIDED THAT IT WAS HER TIME TO DIE**."

"But…." Images flashed through his mind's eye: Mary upon her sick bed, angry at him for everything – anything; her pitiful lungs rattling with blood and infection, rotting inside her. After months of the same, he simply had not been able to take their pain any longer and had made a choice. He held the pillow over her face, the weak thrashing completely ineffectual. He had killed his wife.

A choked sob escaped as he bent nearly double. The masked demon pulled James into an embrace, though the comfort was lost to the macabre scene. "**IT WAS YOUR RIGHT TO MAKE SUCH A CHOICE. IT IS WHO YOU ARE; WHO YOU WERE ALWAYS MEANT TO BE**."

The sniffling stuttered to an abrupt stop. "You said that God woke up the sickness in Mary…It was your fault that she got sick in the first place!" James pushed at the pale demon with his free hand, rage bright in his eyes.

The weak attack did nothing to the creature, who only captured the flailing hand in his own grip. "**I AM ONLY THE MESSENGER JAMES. I DID NOT MAKE YOUR WIFE SICK, GOD DID. THE HARLOT WAS KEEPING YOU FROM US, FROM WHO YOU REALLY ARE. WE HAD TO TAKE MEASURES TO BRING YOU BACK TO US**. **SACRIFICES MUST BE MADE**."

Though he sagged in the steely hold, James anger did not ebb. Voice seething with sarcasm, James spoke quietly, "So it was your God that made my wife so sick that I was forced to kill her out of some twisted sense of mercy?" He flailed again, but his thrashing was as effective as a bird trying to fly on broken wings. "Why? Why me? Why did I have to go through Mary's sickness, her death, and then this Hell? What was the point of it all?"

"**BECAUSE YOU ARE OUR KING, THE MOST PRECIOUS AND BELOVED OF GOD**," the demon holding him whispered into his mind.

"What? I'm no one's King. I'm just a regular guy…."

"**AT THE MOMENT, YES**," spoke Pyramid Head. The butcher was only a few feet from them now and sitting on his haunches. "**BUT YOU HAVE SURVIVED YOUR TRIAL AND COME HOME. AFTER YOUR REAWAKENING, ALL WILL BE CLEAR IN YOUR MIND**."

A low whine escaped James' throat as the demon's tongue laved at his neck again before he felt the gentle pinprick of too sharp teeth. "If you wanted me here so badly, why not just bring me? Why put Mary through all that suffering? Why make me go through this horrible town?"

The masked demon answered, "**YOU HAD TO PROVE YOUR WORTH. WE COULD ONLY GUIDE AND SUGGEST, BUT NEVER LEAD OR TELL. YOU SURVIVED AND NOW…**" He pushed his entire body into James, forcing the man to recline back in an ineffectual attempt to escape the invasion. The blond lay flat, pressing himself to the floor in hopes that it would swallow him. "**NOW, IT IS TIME FOR YOUR CHRISTENING MY LORD**."

With startling clarity, James knew that he was going to be destroyed by these two unholy creatures. Though the demon's weight held him down, he renewed his wriggling and thrashing. A dark, unholy laugh escaped from the depths of Pyramid Head's helm as the masked demon placed a knee on James' uninjured wrist. With the one limb pinned, the demon took hold of his doctored wrist and carefully unwrapped some of it. Using the excess material, he then pulled James hands to one another and bundled his wrists together.

James struggled to keep the encroaching black from blanketing his vision as panic and fear overwhelmed him. "Please, please let me go. I haven't done anything to you and I'm not some _King_! Just let me go…"

The masked demon settled his body solidly atop James, their faces just a whisper apart. "**YOU ARE NOT OUR TRUE KING YET, BUT YOU WILL BE. YOU WILL KNOW ME THEN, BUT FOR NOW MY NAME WILL HAVE TO DO. CALL ME VALTIEL, MY LORD. …I WISH TO HEAR YOU SCREAM IT**."

_

* * *

Once upon a time, in a place that was many things, a King resided in his Sanctuary. He was the most beloved of God and She gifted him with everything Her love could bestow upon Him, but one day, long ago, the Fair-Haired King was lost. God called for Her Child, reaching for Him with Her poisonous claws through time and reality, Her presence leaving deep scars in everything and everyone She touched. _

_ Eventually the King was found. He had returned Home, but He was not Himself. A Harlot traveled with Him and she clouded His sight and mind. God saw this and used Her influence to awaken the dormant sickness within the Harlot. All that was left to do was wait and continue calling Her Son._

_The Harlot grew deathly ill, and the King eventually passed his merciful judgment on the Harlot, as was His right, but trapped as He was in the Waking World, drowned in the guilt brought on by his actions. He returned Home once more, seeking answers and Redemption. _

_Having forgotten who He once was, his servants led him through a horrible journey and once He had passed all the tests, they bathed Him in blood, pain, and horrible searing light. Transformed by their terrible affections, He was theirs again, and the true King once more._

_Reborn, He sat upon His crimson throne and His most loyal servants, God's Messenger and God's Enforcer, became His again; His Consort and His General. They clothed Him in a coat of white and adorned His head with a crown made of teeth, bones, and antlers. The partial skull of an unnatural beast, horned and fanged, concealed His face from those unworthy to gaze upon it._

_And so the King returned to His Mother's bosom in the place some knew as Silent Hill. There He sat upon His crimson throne and judged those that came before Him._

_The King had finally come home._

_Long live the King._


End file.
